Let The Games Begin
by ShippingQueen200
Summary: He hasn't noticed her. She doesn't care about him. He volunteers, and she is reaped. Fate has tied them together. These are bonds they cannot break. AU, Clato wins. Katniss and Peeta die, by the way.
1. Chapter 1

Clove's POV

I was cold. Then again, I was always cold. I opened one eye, then the other, then realised why I felt like I was lying in several feet of snow. I'd fallen out of bed. I groaned heavily; doubtless I'd be black and blue for the next few days. Still, at least I was awake. I was generally not a morning person, preferring the darkness and security of night. I yawned and stood up, stretching and lazily drooping my way to the sink. Then I stopped. I stood up straight. I grinned broadly. Reaping day! It was Reaping day! I did a little dance on the spot, then quickly checked to make sure no one had seen. No, I was all good. Breathing deeply, I ran to the sink, brushed my teeth and my face, then slung on something random I'd found in the cupboard (I really don't give a damn about clothes); I think it was a vaguely blue lacy shirt and some black baggy shorts, and maybe some sandals…? Whatever. Running a brush through my hair, I yanked it into a ponytail as I dashed down the stairs and into the kitchen. My twin younger brothers, Charles and John, were fighting over who had the most toast. They were both 9, too young to be entered. I lunged towards the table, grabbed a piece of toast off of Charles' plate, and munched it as I ran out the door. This was amazing! I was 16, finally eligible to volunteer for the games, and I definitely was volunteering. Nothing was standing in my way now. I darted out of the street and towards the market in the main square. Maybe I could snatch an apple before the Peacekeepers arrived.

Cato's POV

I had been up for hours, wandering around the market, waiting for the bread stall to open. I had always loved bread, and although the ones made in District 2 weren't any high-quality soft Capitol-style bread, they were always warm at this time in the morning, and Reena, the stall-keeper's daughter, liked me and would always sneak me a roll for free. I leant casually against a nearby fence, stretching my muscular arms into the air and grinning casually as I heard one or two girls squeal. Apparently I'm nice. Well, I'm a pretty good fighter, and they'll all want to date me when I win the Games. Doubtless the girl tribute will be pathetic. I yawned and glanced around, and my eyes settled on someone. She was really small, and would come up to about my shoulder blade, if that far. She had long brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and I couldn't see her front because she was turned towards the meadow, so I could only see an upturned nose, some long eyelashes and a determined smile. But she was beautiful… no, stop it Cato. You didn't think of girls as beautiful. Maybe hot, cute if they were on the radar, but never beautiful. She was though, and when she turned to face me, my breath caught, because her eyes were the greenest, most glittering eyes I had seen in my whole life. She looked at me, and I looked back, mesmerised. When she spoke, her voice shocked me out of my daze.

"Um, hello?" she said, waving a hand in front of me.

"Hi," I said, resuming my casual wall-leaning. A strand of her hair had fallen out of the ponytail. She opened her mouth, seeming like she was about to say something else, but then turned and ran as she saw the apple stall open. Reena was beckoning me. I forgot the girl and walked towards her.


	2. Chapter 2

Clove's POV

Boys. Are. So. Weird. I was minding my own business, waiting for the apple stall to open, when I see this guy staring at me like I'm some chocolate truffle cake thing, and he hadn't eaten in three weeks. I raise my eyebrows and then wave a hand, attempting vaguely to bring him out of his stupor. When he does snap out of it, I catch my breath, because I know this boy. Not personally, certainly not on talking terms, but everyone at the training center where I go knows him. This is Cato Lugwig. He's this vicious killing machine type guy; I've seen him hurling spears. He hits the target almost all the time, but what he can really fight with are swords. I don't think he knows I watch him, observing his technique so that late at night when no one's at the center, I can train with swords. I'm getting okay. Nothing like my trusty knife though. I grin as the apple stall opens and casually walk forward, like I'm going to purchase something, and when the stallkeeper is preoccupied with flirting with some pretty Victor's Village girl, I lunge forward, grab an apple, and run off, laughing. The stallkeeper notices, and yells at me, but I'm away by now, sprinting out of the market square. I can run faster than anyone that I know. I'm away, into the trees, where I can practise throwing knives in peace. I take a bite of the apple and smile blissfully.

Cato's POV

I look at the soft breads thoughtfully, biting my lip and making Reena giggle.

"Hmm…" I say, like I'm actually buying something. She smiles cutely and slips me a loaf of bread. I have previously been thinking about kissing her. She's pretty, in a very girly kind of way, with her huge blue eyes and soft hazely-curled hair, and she has a kind of soft nature that I would enjoy protecting. But I've seen that other girl now, and Reena fades into comparison. I take the bread and turn away, only to see the very girl sprinting from the market square with an apple in her hand, a stallkeeper yelling after her. The girl is laughing, a sound like bells pealing, and the wide grin on her face shows her teeth. Her eyes are crinkled up, so I can't see the color, but I would pay anything to get someone to paint her picture in this way. She looks so perfectly happy. Then she's gone, and I don't know where, and I find myself tempted to run after her to look, but I don't. I turn away and walk firmly towards the training center, ripping bits off of the loaf of bread as I walk. The Reaping isn't until 2, so there's lots of time for me to practise. I am volunteering this year, and nothing will stand in my way. My parents are both Victors, their love an engineering of the Capitol, but it means we have lots of money. I just enjoy the thrill of getting bread for free. I march into the training center and unsheathe my sword.


	3. Chapter 3

Clove's POV

I pant, breathing deeply. I have been throwing knives for the past two hours and I am exhausted because I've had to run from a Peacekeeper – twice! I decide I should go and get ready for the Reaping. Normally, I wouldn't care what I looked like, but sometimes I want to dress up. I walk out of the woods calmly, knife in my belt. There's barely anyone in the market square now, save for the breadmaker's daughter and some man tidying up his fabrics. I roll my eyes at the breadmaker's girl. She's tall, with a perfect heart-shaped face, soft hazel brown hair that falls in ringlets around her neck, and large cornflower blue eyes. When she sees me, she purses her perfect pink lips and shoots me a dirty look. I twirl the knife between my fingers as a subtle threat, and begin walking home. When I arrive, my stepfather is fixing the twins' ties. He doesn't even look at me. He hates me. I hate him. My life. I walk up the stairs and open my closet, searching fervently for this year's dress. I find it at last. It's a soft velvet black affair, which clings around my top half and flares out into a ruffled skirt. I pull it on and then some black soft suede boots that reach my knees. I would be boiling, but there's a chill in the air. Then I look at my reflection, and, in a stroke of madness, untie my hair from the ponytail and brush it out so it falls in a dark brown silky wave, and then take a small section and braid it with a white silk ribbon. I apply some mascara, having no idea where I got it, and find a small tub of strawberry lipgloss. Then I breathe deeply, turn away from the mirror, and make my way down the stairs and to the market square where crowds are beginning to gather. My finger is pricked, and I walk towards the crowds of girls.

Cato's POV

I take a deep breath and adjust my jacket for about the 17th time. Biting my lip, I leave the house, my parents yelling vaguely that they'll come soon… maybe ten minutes, whatever. I roll my eyes and walk into the market square, and my eyes are instinctively drawn to the girls' section. I can't see her, and my heart falls. Oh well, I shouldn't be focusing on her anyway! But even as silence falls and the announcer for District 2 arrives, I can't stop thinking about her, about the way her hair falls around her face, about the way her eyes glitter, about the way she throws back her head when she laughs. I'm so caught up in imagining talking to her that I don't even hear the boy's names being called until my friend nudges me, and I instantly dash forwards, shouting that I volunteer. My friends cheer, girls blush, adults clap. I stand on the platform, smirking, and tell the announcer that my name is Cato Ludwig. I cross my arms and look casual, winking at some girls and smirking at my friends. The announcer crosses over to the girls' bowl and smiles, then dips an oddly orange hand into the bowl. She takes out a name, opens it, and reads the name in a mad Capitol accent.

"Clove Fuhrman." The name means nothing to me until I see the girl who emerges from the crowd, and even then, I don't recognise her for a moment, until she raises her head, and then I see her eyes, and then I know. Oh, I _KNOW. _She's the girl from the market square, the girl who stole the apple, the girl who laughed so brightly, and the girl who, now that she stands here, no one will volunteer for. She looks straight into the cameras, and it's like she's mocking them. 'You see this?' she seems to be saying. 'Look at me. Look at him. No one will volunteer for me. And I will win.' I bow my head, no longer smirking, and hope to God someone else will kill her before I do.


End file.
